Sssh, A---l business is afoot at the pond, as is the Chairman ...

Meanwhile, how weird is it getting in reptile land?

Did you notice?

That's right, that rabid ratbag Panahi, as recycled by the Bolter,   seems to be unable to bring herself to type out 'Anal'.

We're back in the days of Mother Grundy.

The pond couldn't believe it, that a word would have so much potency, so many dark magical powers,.

So we rushed off to check the original. And there it was again:

Beyond the valley of the bizarre.

'A --- l'?!?

It's all the more poignant, or piquant, as noted by the pond, that in recent days the commentariat has been lathering up into a fine old frenzy of indignation and frothing foam about Mark Latham being persecuted for speaking of fucks and cunts.

Now the sweet old things are whipping themselves up into a storm about 'A --- l', which somehow assaults their eyeballs so much that they can't bear to type a simple word ... Anal.

There's something deeply anal about that.

Could it get any funnier?

Well if you read Miranda the Devine it might:

Mmm, surely she can't be saying that Panahi is a fainting couch feminist?

But look, that tortured model caressing her fevered brow has a certain 'a---l' feel to her ...

The hoo ha is infinitely richer than the Fairfax typo that enriched the pond's lunchtime reading:

Perhaps Panahi has been caught up in a time warp parradox and imagines herself scribbling for a Victorian newspaper. Oh you know what the pond means, not a Victorian newspaper, but a newspaper of Victorian times and outlook. Oh wait, is there a difference as the HUN spirals back into the past?

Meanwhile the pond also dropped in on the Chairman for some important updates:

Indeed, indeed. To the naked ear, the silly old goose is sounding more and more senile.

Only a doofus of the first water could assert Netflix being streamed over good broadband would be great for Foxtel - lordy, lordy have they stuffed up in their attempts to muscle up - and only an exceptional goose could ask who's in charge, and then, apparently not knowing the answer, tell the world that it's a happy warrior and a clever fighter.

The contortions and the gymnastics are truly admirable.

But it explains to the naked eye of the pond why climate science is a UN conspiracy, and why the horizon remains determinedly flat: